


Bright Star, Would I Were Stedfast as Thou Art

by leonardJamesAkaar



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst, Bad Parent John Winchester, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Episode Rewrite (kind of), Episode: s04e13 After School Special, Fluff, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Implied Sexual Content, LGBTQ Ally Sam Winchester, M/M, Monster of the Week, My First Fanfic, Photographer Castiel (Supernatural), Photography, Poetry, no smut tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28603461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonardJamesAkaar/pseuds/leonardJamesAkaar
Summary: November 1977, Fairfax, Indiana, during the flashback events of s04e13 "After School Special" except Cas is a senior in Dean's class who makes him forget all about Amanda Heckerling.-------Dean stood in front of his classmates, all seated at their respective desks as the teacher, an older woman with wavy red hair, introduced him to the class.“Class, say hello to our new student, Dean Winchester,” she instructed, her voice dripping with enthusiasm, no doubt in an attempt to rouse the sleepy students from their apathetic torpor.A few halfhearted “Hi Dean’s” and “Hello’s” were muttered from various students around the room. Some offered only unintelligible noises as acknowledgement of Dean’s presence. One boy, however, said nothing at all, yet continued to give Dean his unrelenting attention from his seat in the back row of desks. His eyes, Dean noticed, wide and staring, were the bluest blue he’d ever seen. He found himself staring back.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All 12 chapters will be finished and the fic will be updated very soon.

“Look out for Sammy,” John Winchester instructed as Dean opened the passenger door of the Impala and stepped out. 

“Yes sir,” Dean replied automatically, then John drove off just as soon as the doors had closed, leaving Sam and Dean in the parking lot of a small, run down looking apartment complex. Dean and his father had exchanged these exact words countless times before. Every time he left them to go on a hunt, he’d say the same thing; look out for Sammy. It had become their goodbye. 

The two brothers wordlessly walked side by side into the building, each hefting their own duffle bags. Down the hall a ways, they found the apartment that they’d be staying in and unlocked the door. The unpleasant yet all too familiar scent of mothballs and dust rose to greet them as they entered. Dean surveyed what would be their home for the next two months, taking in a rickety kitchen table with two spindly wooden chairs, dusty cabinets, undoubtedly bare of anything good, a sagging old couch situated in front of a boxy television, a cramped bathroom, and a single bedroom adorned with a twin bed. Home sweet home. It wasn’t really so bad, better than a motel at least. Of course most motels had vending machines and the occasional pretty girl in the lobby, whereas this apartment complex certainly had neither. They probably would have been staying at a motel if their father hadn’t planned on being gone so long. 

“Six weeks, at least,” John had said when Dean asked how long he’d be hunting. He’d caught word of what he thought was a pack of “wandering vamps” as he called them. Vampires without a permanent nest would be much more difficult to track down and kill. So, John had set Sam and Dean up in the dingy little apartment, fronted the cash for two month’s rent, and enrolled them both at Truman High. Tomorrow would be their first day at their new school, but the rest of today was all theirs to spend doing whatever they please. In Sam’s case, this was dusting off one of the kitchen chairs and settling in to read whatever book he’d brought along with him. From the look of it, he was already more than halfway through the dog-eared copy of  _ The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. _ Dean made a mental note to find out where the public library was. He smiled to himself. Sammy always had his nose buried in some book, during long car rides in the Impala, at motels, and sometimes through the night. Books were his way of checking out for a while and escaping to some other world, one where they didn’t have monsters on their tails 24/7. Dean certainly understood that. He found his own escape in movies. He settled down on the couch, dropped his duffle bag at his side and began to flip through channels. Thank God for the four hour Scooby-Doo marathon that was on. Dean tuned out the world around him and tuned into the show where monsters were nothing but men in masks, and nobody died trying to catch them. 

Hours later, the sun had gone down and Dean’s watch read 10:03. He switched off the TV and raised his arms above his head to stretch. He glanced over toward the kitchen table to see Sam asleep with his head laying on his book. Chuckling to himself, Dean made his way over to the kitchen where he gently removed the book from under Sam’s head, taking care not to wake him, and placed it upside down on the table so as to keep his place marked. He then lifted Sam out of the chair, and carried him to the twin bed in the tiny bedroom. He smiled fondly to himself, thinking about all the times he’d done this when Sam was little. He searched his memory, trying to recall the last instance he’d had to carry his sleeping brother to bed, but couldn’t quite remember. It must have been a while. Sam certainly wasn’t as small as he used to be, but luckily he hadn’t hit a growth spurt yet and was still at least two heads shorter than Dean, so Dean could still carry him with relative ease. He was just about to tuck Sam in when he heard him speak.

“You take the bed, Dean. I’ll sleep on the couch,” Sam mumbled sleepily.

“Go back to sleep, Sammy.” Dean replied.

“I always sleep in the beds, last time you slept on the floor. You have a turn.”

“What do you say we settle this the old fashioned way?” Dean raised his palm and settled the fist of his other hand on top of it, poised and ready for a game of rock, paper, scissors. 

Sam raised his own fist and the two of them threw in unison.

“Damn,” Dean remarked in mock frustration as Sam’s rock beat his scissors.

“You did that on purpose, you always throw scissors,” yawned Sam.

“Nah, you won fair and square, Sammy. Now get some sleep, we have school in the morning.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Dean,” Sam mumbled, evidently too tired to argue. 

“Goodnight, Sam.” Dean closed the bedroom door softly and returned to the couch. Using his duffle bag as a pillow and his worn leather jacket as a blanket, he fell into a state of slumber. Not quite a deep sleep, and not a light sleep either, but somewhere in between. Somewhere where his breathing steadied and his mind wound down, but where dreams were just ever so slightly out of reach. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the dialogue from this chapter is from s04e13 "After School Special" with a few tweaks added here and there.

The next morning went by in a blur. After a brief (and very cold) shower and a rushed breakfast picked up from a fast food joint down the road, Dean was walking up to the double doors of Truman High with Sam by his side. 

“Got your lunch? Books? Butterfly knife?” Dean asked, looking down at Sam. 

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam replied with his head still trained forward on the entrance to the school. 

“You okay?” asked Dean, concernedly.

“Sure,” Sam responded flatly. 

“Sammy…” Dean pressed, trailing off after saying his younger brother’s name. It was evident that something was bothering Sam, but it had just occurred to Dean that he had no idea what to say to him. 

Sam finally returned Dean’s look. “I mean, look, this is the third school we've been to this year, and it's only November. I'm just sick of always being the new kid.”

Dean knew how that felt. He’d given up on making any effort to get close to any of his temporary schoolmates long ago, save for maybe a few of the hot cheerleaders. The fewer goodbyes he had to say when they inevitably moved on, the better. “You'll be fine. If anyone gives you any trouble, you let me know.” He paused as Sam gave him a look. “Relax. Dad will be done hunting in a few weeks. As soon as he gets back, we're out of here.”

“To another school. Awesome,” Sam hurried to the entrance before Dean could say anything more.

Dean sighed and followed him inside.

Dean stood in front of his classmates, all seated at their respective desks as the teacher, an older woman with wavy red hair, introduced him to the class.

“Class, say hello to our new student, Dean Winchester,” she instructed, her voice dripping with enthusiasm, no doubt in an attempt to rouse the sleepy students from their apathetic torpor. 

A few halfhearted “Hi Dean’s” and “Hello’s” were muttered from various students around the room. Some offered only unintelligible noises as acknowledgement of Dean’s presence. One boy, however, said nothing at all, yet continued to give Dean his unrelenting attention from his seat in the back row of desks. His eyes, Dean noticed, wide and staring, were the bluest blue he’d ever seen. He found himself staring back.

“Dean, is there anything you'd like to tell us about yourself?” the teacher asked, bringing Dean back to Earth. 

“Not really, sweetheart,” he answered, flashing her a cocky smile. A few scattered giggles and muffled titters arose from the class. 

The teacher looked back at him, flabbergasted, and with a tone of obvious disapproval in her voice, ordered Dean to take a seat. 

Dean strode down the aisle between two rows of desks and chose a desk in the second to last row. As he sat down, he snuck a peek over at the blue-eyed boy who he’d seen staring before. His eyes were still trained on Dean, as if he had never looked away. He wasn’t sure if the boy knew that Dean could see him staring. He wasn’t sure if he should be creeped out or not. His attention was brought back to the front of the room as the teacher addressed him again. 

“Dean, where are your books?” She reproached, her voice now void of enthusiasm.

“Don’t need ‘em, sugar. Not gonna be here long enough anyways.” he answered, leaning back slightly in his chair. This remark turned a few heads, including a gorgeous blonde sitting in the front row. Dean winked at her and she turned away, giggling. 

The teacher glared at him, shooting intimidatory daggers in his direction with her bespectacled eyes. Dean wasn’t scared. The only person who could frighten him with a glare like that was his father. 

Dean tuned out most of the teacher’s lesson, opting to periodically glance back at the blue-eyed boy to see if he was still staring instead of taking in all of the virtually useless information the teacher was spouting to the class. From the look of the rest of the students, most of them weren’t paying much attention either. One more so than others was the blue-eyed boy, who did not break his gaze at Dean until for a brief moment, the two of them made eye contact. The boy’s expression slipped from one of wonder and curiosity to one of fear; he’d been caught. He quickly looked away and directed his stare down at the blank notebook in front of him, running his pencil over the paper in a less than convincing attempt to pretend that he’d just been taking notes this whole time. 

_ What a weird kid,  _ Dean thought to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few periods went by without incident, and filled with all of the same-old same-old that Dean glazed over at every other school he attended; names that he didn’t bother learning, notes that he didn’t bother taking, assignments that he didn’t bother writing down, all set to the tune of lecture after mind-numbing lecture. What he wouldn’t do for some Led Zeppelin right about now. 

Finally, it was lunch time. After waiting in the lunch line for what seemed like a small eternity, Dean was able to sit down and eat his sloppy joe. Enjoying the lunchtime ambience and the solid seven-out-of-ten sandwich, he let his mind wander. He decided that he already liked this school more than the last. The food was better and the teachers were much less attentive, making it significantly easier for him to space out during classes. 

Lunch was followed by a recess period in the schoolyard. Dean took note of the November chill in the air and hoped that Sam had remembered his jacket. He scanned his surroundings, looking for his little brother, and spotted him at the far side of the schoolyard. He was chumming it up with some dark haired, geeky looking kid with big glasses. 

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean called as he approached the two of them, “who’s this?”

“Hey Dean. This is Barry,” Sam answered, gesturing to the kid, “Barry, this is my brother, Dean.” 

“Nice to meet ya, Barry,” Dean gave Barry a polite nod, “well, I’ll leave you two to it.” He shuffled off to the front of the school yard and leaned his back against the brick wall of the building, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. He watched the students in the schoolyard milling about, then let his eyes drift up to the gray sky and back to the ground. 

When he looked to his left, something caught his attention. It was that boy from his first class, the one with the staring problem. He was standing about thirty feet away, peeking around the corner of the building. Most of his body was concealed by the brick wall, but Dean could see his face, his hands, and the polaroid camera that he had angled toward Dean. It took him a moment to process that this boy was taking a picture of him. By the time he realized what was happening, the flash of the camera had gone off, and the boy had already disappeared around the corner. 

“What the hell?” he said out loud to himself as he strode around the corner towards the boy. Dean saw him making a beeline for the door to go back inside the school, and jogged to catch up with him, grabbing him by the collar of his light brown coat. 

“Hold it right there, buddy,” he said sternly as the boy turned to face him, a look of absolute terror on his face, “Hand over the photo.” Dean stuck his hand out in front of him. 

“You... saw that?” the boy asked nervously in a voice that seemed too low and gravelly for someone of his age. It took Dean by surprise. 

“Well you weren’t very discreet about it, I bet half the school saw you,” he remarked, pushing his hand further forward for the boy to put the photo in. 

The boy gulped nervously before taking the photo from his jacket pocket and placing it in Dean’s hand.

Dean took a good look at the photo. It featured his side profile from the waist up. He was leaning against the red brick wall and staring off into the schoolyard. There was a certain quality to the photo; nothing was blurry, and the meager amount of light that the grey, cloudy day offered hit his eyes just right, showing off their brilliant green. He was impressed. “Not bad,” he affirmed, “What’s your name, blue eyes?” Dean’s question raised a soft, nervous gasp out of the boy before he spoke again. 

“Castiel,” he mumbled, staring down at the ground to avoid meeting Dean’s eye.

“What kind of a name is Castiel?” Dean blurted out, sounding harsher than he’d meant to.

“M-my parents are very eccentric,” he shrugged, his eyes still fixed on his shoes.

“Tell you what, I’m going to call you Cas. How does that sound?” 

Cas finally raised his head to look Dean in the eye. He didn’t speak, but he nodded nervously.

“Okay. Well then, Cas, do you want to tell me why you were taking a picture of me?” Dean raised the photo in his hand for emphasis. 

“I….” Cas started, breaking his gaze at Dean to look nervously at the ground again.

“Come on, spit it out,” Dean encouraged.

“I uh, I liked the way you looked. I thought you looked nice,” Cas finished, an obvious shake in his voice. 

Again, Dean was taken by surprise. “You uh, you what?” Dean asked, a hint of nervousness entering his own voice. What could he mean by that? Dean’s breath caught in his throat as he processed this. Was this kid  _ attracted  _ to him?

“Photography is a hobby of mine,” Cas explained quietly, “I thought you looked like an ideal subject for one of my photos.” 

Dean tried not to breathe an audible sigh of relief. The way he explained it made sense. He’d just seen Dean as an opportunity for a good quality photo and nothing more. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I... I should have asked your permission first,” Cas mumbled, raising his head again to look at Dean.

“Nah, man, that’s okay,” Dean fumbled, “I’m sorry for… for freaking out on you, you know?”  _ God, what was wrong with him? Why was he all the sudden unable to be cool? _ “Here, you can have this back,” he handed the photo of him back to Cas, and Cas accepted it, tucking it back into his jacket pocket. 

“Thank you, Dean,” he gave Dean a small smile, which Dean returned. 

For a minute, they just stood there, their hands in their pockets, smiling at one another.

Cas finally broke the silence. “So… what brings you to Fairfax?” 

“Oh, uh, my dad’s job,” Dean replied.

“What did you mean when you told Mrs. Fitzpatrick that you wouldn't be here long?” Cas inquired. It seemed that the nervousness had left his voice entirely and was replaced with curiosity. Dean was surprised that Cas had remembered what he said.

“My family moves around a lot. My brother and I are here for a month or two while my dad is out of town on a job,” Dean said the words before he realized what he’d done, and when he did realize, he cringed. In mentioning his father and brother, he’d left the door wide open for Cas to ask about his mother. He’d made that mistake too many times before, and paid the price every time he’d had to explain to someone that he’d lost his mother many years ago, but Cas didn’t ask about his mother. It was almost as if he could sense Dean’s aversion to the topic. Instead, he asked about Sam.

“Does your brother also go here?” 

“Yeah, his name’s Sam. He’s the short one over there next to Barry,” Dean said, pointing across the schoolyard to where Barry and Sam were.

Sam noticed Dean pointing and waved before turning back to talk to Barry. 

“You take care of him?” Cas asked, with a small smile.

“Yeah, pretty much. What about you? Any siblings?”

Cas’s smile grew and he chuckled to himself. “I have many brothers and sisters, all older. Gabriel, Michael, Anna, Raphael, they all left home years ago. They still visit on the holidays though.”

Cas’s smile proved to be contagious. Dean watched, almost in awe, as Castiel told him story after story about his family, some punctuated with breaks for gut busting laughter, others with poignant moments almost fit for tears. By the time the bell rang, Dean felt like he had known Cas for years. It didn’t even occur to him that Cas knew practically nothing about him. 


	4. Chapter 4

Hanging out with Cas at school felt strange to Dean. Besides the obvious unorthodox nature of their meeting, that is. He wasn’t used to making friends.  _ Friends.  _ Dean paused mid-thought. He had known this kid less than a day and already he thought of him as a friend. It felt strange. It felt good, but strange nonetheless. 

“Dean?” Sam called from the kitchen, tearing Dean from the ponderous daydream he was having on the couch, “I’m going to go to the library.”

“Okay. I’m going to head to that convenience store a few blocks down and get us some food,” He called back.

“See you later,” Sam closed the door behind him and left Dean alone on the couch. He didn’t really feel like walking anywhere right now, especially since he’d just walked the several miles home from school, but he knew they were low on food, and he figured Sam wouldn’t be too happy having peanut butter and stale crackers for dinner, so he sighed and hoisted himself off of the couch.

A few blocks of walking later, Dean found himself at the Gas-n-sip. Grabbing a shopping basket, he strode down aisle after aisle, picking out bread, a frozen pizza, some cans of soup, milk, and a box of Lucky Charms. He smiled to himself. Lucky Charms were Sam’s favorite when he was little. It must have been years since they’d had them. 

He strode absentmindedly up to the counter to check out, still looking at the box of Lucky Charms in his hands, admiring the funny little leprechaun character on the front. When he reached the checkout counter and set his basket down, he was greeted by a familiar voice.

“Hello, Dean.” 

Dean looked up from the cereal box in his hand to see Castiel standing behind the register in a white button down shirt and a bright blue ( _ not as brilliant blue as those eyes _ , Dean caught himself thinking) Gas-n-sip vest. A wide, goofy smile spread over Dean’s face. 

“Hey, Cas. I’ll have some beef jerky and a pack of menthols,” He said playfully.

Cas tilted his head in confusion. “You know I can’t sell you any tobacco products, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes but kept his smile. “Just joking, man. So you work here at the Gas-n-sip, huh?”  _ Excellent conversation starter, Dean,  _ he mentally kicked himself.

“Yeah, it pays for film,” Cas shrugged with a shy smile as he began to scan Dean’s groceries.

“You know, that picture you took of me was really good. You must have some real talent.” Dean shuffled his feet nervously. 

“You think so?” Cas asked, his smile growing and a small blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“Yeah, I do,” Dean smiled back.

“If you’d like to come over sometime, I can show you some others that I’ve taken.”

Dean was yet again taken by surprise. Through all of the towns he’d stayed in, it had been years since he’d been to a friend’s house. He was about to eagerly agree when he hesitated, the thought of his imminent departure in a few weeks hanging in the back of his mind. He shouldn’t be making friends. In the end, Cas will just be another solemn farewell, Dean told himself. He should say no. But God, why does this kid have to make it so hard? Why does he have to be so damn  _ nice _ ? Against his better judgement, Dean smiled at Cas and said, “Yeah, sure, I’d like that.”

Cas’s face lit up in a way that made Dean want to smile even wider, despite the fact that he was sure his face would split in half if he did. “Are you busy tomorrow after school?” Cas asked.

“Nope, I’m free.” Dean’s total flashed onto the screen of the cash register. He dug the money out of his pocket and handed it to Cas. 

“My parents will probably ask you to stay for dinner,” Cas warned. 

The thought of a home cooked meal made Dean’s mouth water. “I can’t say no to that. What’s your address?”

Cas took Dean’s receipt and wrote down the digits and street before handing it to him. “Will you need a ride?” he asked, “it’s only a few blocks from here.”

“No, thanks, I can walk. I have to walk Sammy home anyways.”

“Is 5:00 okay?” Cas handed Dean his bag of groceries. 

“5:00 is perfect.” 

“So... I guess I’ll see you then?” 

“Not if I see you first,” Dean laughed, then immediately gave himself another mental kick. Cas’s smile, however, did not waver, even as when Dean was leaving, he collided with a display full of bags of chips. 

“Okay,” Dean muttered to himself as he steadied the display, took one last look at Cas, who was looking at him with the biggest smile he’d ever seen, and got the hell out of there. 

Dean stared down at the bowl of Lucky Charms in front of him in contemplative silence. His eyes were fixated on a particularly colorful bit of marshmallow that was bobbing around the top of the bowl as he stirred absentmindedly at his cereal. His mind had drifted back to Cas as soon as he’d sat down, and his cereal was sure to be soggy by now. Why had he found it so difficult to act like a normal person when he’d seen Cas at the convenience store? Why was it that the second he saw Cas, he found himself grinning like an idiot and unable to walk in a straight line? Might it be that when he saw Cas, the amount of happiness that bloomed inside of him made it impossible not to smile, or that the butterflies fluttering around his stomach made it very difficult to pay attention to, much less regulate the motion of any of his limbs, thus crashing into the chip display like a total imbecile? He supposed it could also be his heart jackhammering against his ribcage and sending a rush of blood to his head, causing all rational thought to vacate the premises immediately. Dean wasn’t sure when these things started happening to him, they seemed to just slip so subtly into being that he hadn’t noticed at all. He certainly noticed now, though. He hadn’t felt these feelings in a long time, and even so, he couldn’t think of a time when he’d felt them this strongly. Perhaps he never had. But what did these feelings mean? Dean had a pretty decent idea of what exactly these feelings meant, and it scared the shit out of him. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice pulled Dean back to the present.

“Yeah, Sammy?”

“Your cereal is getting soggy,” Sam pointed out.

“Yeah… yeah I guess it is.” Dean replied distantly. 

Sam took notice of Dean’s inattentiveness and his forehead wrinkled in concern. “Is there something wrong?” 

“No, nothing’s wrong, I was just… lost in thought is all,” Dean smiled at his brother. 

Sam shrugged and turned his attention back to his bowl where just a few more bites of cereal swam. 

“Hey, Sammy?” Dean broke the silence again.

“Yeah?”

“Will you be okay if I leave you alone for a few hours tomorrow evening?” 

“Yeah, of course. Where will you be?”

Dean paused. “Just at a friend’s house,” he answered after a moment of hesitation. 

Sam said nothing, but a wide grin spread across his face.

“What?” 

“Who is she?” Sam asked, his grin growing.

“Who is who?” Dean asked incredulously. 

“That’s why you’ve been spacing out, isn’t it? You met a girl!” Sam exclaimed giddily. “Who is she? What’s her name? Come on, you’ve got to tell me!” 

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes you do, I’m your brother.”

Dean scoffed in disbelief. He was at a loss for words. He didn’t know what to tell Sam. He could tell him that Cas was just a friend, but something about that didn’t feel quite right, and Sam surely wouldn’t believe it. Sam wouldn’t be satisfied until Dean admitted that he was seeing a girl. Before he could think it through any further, the words tumbled out of his mouth. “Cas. H-  _ her  _ name is Cas.” He felt his heart start pounding and he inhaled nervously. 

Sam didn’t miss a beat. “Does she go to our school?”

“No, I… I met her at the convenience store.” 

Sam sat back and folded his arms across his chest, giving Dean a self-satisfied smirk.

“Hey, we’re just hanging out, I’ll be back before you go to bed,” Dean snapped defensively.

“Sure you will, Dean,” Sam shook his head, not believing a word. He finished his Lucky Charms and placed his bowl in the sink, then retreated to the bedroom to read one of his books, no doubt still sporting a shit-eating grin. 

Dean raked his fingers through his hair and exhaled, the nervousness slowly retreating, having momentarily avoided Sam’s suspicion. He chuckled to himself softly in disbelief. Why would Sam be suspicious? After all, Dean  _ was  _ just going to Cas’s house for dinner and to see some of his photos. What did he have to be afraid of? 


	5. Chapter 5

Cas lived in a charming, two story colonial near the end of a street in a neighborhood full of charming, two story colonials, just on the edge of Lake Monroe. It was nothing like the neighborhood that surrounded Dean’s apartment. 

Dean was especially nervous as he strode up the walk to Cas’s front door. He would have liked to stuff his sweaty hands into the pockets of his leather jacket to hide how they shook, but he had opted to leave it behind, and instead wore his nicest pair of jeans and a long sleeved button up, robin’s egg blue like Cas’s brilliant eyes. He’d even combed his hair back to make it look neater. He’d dressed up more than he did for any date he’d ever been on, and he was at least twice as nervous. He shouldn’t be so nervous, he thought. After all, this wasn’t a date. And it wasn’t a date. Dates are when you go to the diner or the drive in for a double feature. This felt different. This  _ was  _ different. 

Dean exhaled sharply, fighting the urge to rake his fingers through his hair lest he mess up what he’d earlier combed down so neatly. He took one last deep breath of the cool night air and rang the doorbell. 

When Cas opened the door and saw Dean, he smiled. He smiled the same bright, sunshiny smile that he’d donned when Dean had seen him at the convenience store, and when he’d told him stories in the schoolyard. Dean began to wonder if Cas reserved that particular smile for him. 

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.” 

“Please, come in,” Cas stood to the side, holding the door for Dean as he stepped inside. 

Cas’s house smelled like cinnamon and cedar and warmth. It smelled like a home.

“Right on time!” a woman’s voice rang from further inside the house. A moment later, the woman came into sight and greeted Dean with a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Dean,” she smiled. Her eyes were blue like Cas’s. 

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Novak,” Dean returned her handshake and her smile. 

“Oh, please, call me Joan,” she laughed and turned to her son, “My, such a gentleman. Castiel, you didn’t tell me he was so polite,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “and handsome too!” 

Dean could feel a blush creeping onto his skin.

“Mom,” Cas scolded, but he was blushing just as much as Dean.

“Sorry, I’ll stop,” she paused to brush a lock of hair across Cas’s forehead.

Cas squirmed but let his mother continue.

“Let’s all come to the kitchen and sit down, shall we? Dinner's almost ready.” 

Dinner was delicious, Dean made a point to say so several times. Mr. and Mrs. Novak were delightful company, and as promised, they kept their teasing to a minimum.

After they’d finished eating, Cas excused himself and Dean so they could go look at his photos. Dean’s heart nearly jumped into his throat when Cas took his hand to lead him upstairs, but he swallowed his fear, curled his hand into Cas’s, and followed him to his bedroom. 

“Here we are.” Cas’s bedroom door was at the end of the upstairs hall. He opened the door for Dean and they stepped inside. It was like crossing the threshold into another world. The rest of the Novaks’ house was homey and inviting, but a little too clean, a little too straight, and a little too uniform. Not a single picture or wall hanging could be found askew, and the walls were all painted offwhite, cream, and other neutral tones. It all just bled monochromatism. Cas’s room, on the other hand, looked lived in. His bed was made, but the sheets stuck out on one corner. His desk was neat, but blanketed by papers showing lecture notes, chicken scratched math equations, and absentminded doodles. His shelves were tidy, but far from pristine. The lamp on his bedside table set the room in a soft yellow glow, and his walls were sea green. And pinned to those walls, above his bed, his desk, and his shelves, was photo after marvelous photo. Dean was awestruck. 

“Sorry, it’s a little messy,” Cas mumbled.

“No, it’s… it’s wonderful,” Dean marveled, “Wow, Cas, did you take all of these?” He stepped toward the cluster of photos over Cas’s desk and ran his finger under them, admiring every one. 

“Yeah,” Cas answered, blushing.

“They’re beautiful. Man, how do you do that?” Dean turned back to look at Cas, who was still standing in the doorway, red as a beet.

Cas’s face rose and his eyes met Dean’s. “Would you like me to show you?”

Minutes later, Dean found himself climbing the hill in the Novaks’ vast backyard with Cas’s Polaroid Impulse hanging around his neck. 

“This should be a good spot,” Cas stopped and set the film canisters he was carrying on the ground. 

“So what do I do?” Dean asked nervously. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a photo. Had he ever taken a photo before? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had occasion to; his life wasn’t exactly picture perfect. 

“May I show you?” Cas asked politely.

“Yeah, of course,” Dean held the camera out to him, expecting him to take it and give a demonstration, but instead he pushed the camera back towards Dean and took his other hand, showing him where to place it. Cas stood behind Dean, his arms on either side, and his hands covering Dean’s on the camera. Dean’s heart felt as though it might burst through his sternum. 

“It’s an autofocus camera and it has an automatic light meter system, so you won’t have to worry about focusing the lens or the exposure,” Cas began. His words were all Greek to Dean, who was having a hard time focusing on anything other than Cas’s hands on his own, but he nodded to show he was ready for more.

“Bring it up to your eye so you can see through the viewfinder,” Cas said softly, as his face was right next to Dean’s ear, and he eased the camera and Dean’s hands up to his eye. Cas’s warm breath on the back of his neck sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. “And when you’ve found a subject and you’re ready, you press the shutter button to take the picture,” Cas finished. 

Dean nodded and began to scan the horizon through the viewfinder, searching for a worthy subject. He finally settled on a tree, mostly bare, but still adorned with a few stubborn autumn leaves. The setting sun cast a warm glow about its branches. 

“Try to keep the sun at your back to make the best use of the natural light,” Cas advised from behind him, and Dean adjusted. He hesitated for a moment, then pressed the shutter button. The camera in his hands whirred to life, startling him. If Cas’s hands had not been still covering his own, he was sure that he would have dropped the camera. He must have jumped because he could hear Cas chuckling softly behind him. The camera spit out a picture and Cas’s hands left Dean’s to pick it up. Dean glanced at the photo in Cas’s hands and saw that it was blank. 

“Shit, Cas, I’m sorry. I must’ve messed it up,” Dean apologized.

Cas only smiled. “You did just fine, Dean. It just takes a minute to develop.” 

“Oh.” Dean felt stupid.

The two of them waited a few minutes, then finally the picture began to form. Dean 

stared at it. It wasn’t as good as anything Cas could have taken, not by a long shot, but it was a start. Cas looked at it like it was the most wonderful thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re a natural,” he told Dean. 

“Nah, that was all you, I… I couldn’t have done it without your help.” Dean 

blushed. 

“Let’s see if you can,” Cas replied and strode over to the crest of the hill, a few feet 

away from Dean. “Take a picture of me. You don’t need my help, I know you can do it.” 

Dean gulped, trying to remember everything that Cas had told him. He lifted the camera to his eye and framed Cas’s smiling face, the smile that he always had for Dean. Dean pressed the shutter button and the camera whirred. He wasn’t startled this time. He pulled the picture from the front of the camera when it came out, and the two of them stood side by side and waited for the image to show. When it finally did, they both smiled. Cas was right, Dean was a natural.

The two of them stayed at the top of the hill, snapping pictures until they’d exhausted both of the film cartridges. After that, they sat down next to each other to watch the sunset.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it sure is.”

The sunset was marvelous, but Dean paid little attention to it. He was hyper aware of the four inches of space between himself and Cas, which felt like mere millimeters, but at the same time like miles. A cool autumn breeze blew by, sending a chill through Dean and causing him to shiver. 

Cas took notice. “Are you cold?” he asked.

“Maybe a little,” Dean shivered, wishing he had brought his jacket.

“We can go back inside if you’d like.”

“No, no. I’d like to stay and watch the sunset with you.” 

“Okay.” 

They sat in silence a few minutes longer, marveling at the way the colors of the sky blended and swirled together before Dean shivered again. Cas reached over and put his warm hand on top of Dean’s, whose fingers were like ice. 

“Dean, you’re freezing,” he said, taking Dean’s hands and sandwiching them between his own to warm them. 

“I’m ok, really,” Dean tried to sound nonchalant, but his body betrayed him as his teeth chattered.

“Come here,” Cas instructed, letting go of Dean’s hand and putting his arm around his shoulder, wrapping his long brown coat around Dean so that they both had one side.

Dean froze for a moment, but then scooted closer and leaned into Cas’s embrace, grateful for the warmth and for any excuse to be nearer to him. “Thanks,” he shivered.

“Of course,” Cas replied. 

They sat together wordlessly, sharing Cas’s coat for several minutes until Dean worked up the courage to hesitantly lean his head sideways onto Cas’s shoulder. Cas sighed contentedly and leaned his own head onto Dean’s, and Dean’s heart sang. Cas smelled like cinnamon, fresh autumn leaves, and honey. 

“Are you still cold?” Cas asked, and Dean could feel the rumble of his voice through the top of his head where it leaned against Cas’s throat. 

“Nope, I’m much better now,” Dean replied. He couldn’t see Cas’s face, but he knew he was smiling. 


	6. Chapter 6

After watching the sunset, Dean and Cas sat in Cas’s room looking through more of Cas’s photos. Dean had tried to let Cas keep the pictures they’d taken together, it was his film and camera after all, but Cas had just smiled and tucked the lot of them into Dean’s shirt pocket. They spent the rest of their evening exploring Cas’s bookshelves. Cas read a story to Dean from his book of short stories by Ray Bradbury, and Dean’s eyes never left Cas’s face. He watched intently, mesmerized by the soft flutter of Cas’s eyelashes and how his lips moved to enunciate every syllable in that low, electric voice of his that made Dean’s breath catch. He’d never before found classic literature so interesting.

At around 9:30 pm, Dean decided he’d better leave. It was getting late and he didn’t want to impose. Plus, he’d told Sam that he would be back before he went to bed, and he wasn’t about to give his little brother the satisfaction of seeing him come home any later. 

Cas walked him to the door and pulled it open. Chilly night air seeped into the entrance of the house. “You’re going to freeze if you walk home without a jacket,” He warned.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay,” Dean shrugged, but Cas wasn’t convinced.

He reached over and pulled his brown coat from the coat tree where it hung and held it out to Dean. “Here, take it. I won’t take no for an answer.” 

Dean smiled and allowed Cas to slip the coat over his shoulders. “Thanks, Cas, I’ll uh.. I’ll give it back to you at school tomorrow.”

“You’re welcome, Dean. It...” Cas paused and clasped his hands in front of himself nervously, “It looks good on you.”

Dean went scarlet. 

Dean only stumbled once on his way down the walk from Cas’s front door. He hoped Cas hadn’t seen. When he had walked about half of a block from the house, He lowered his nose to the shoulder of the coat and inhaled deeply. The coat smelled just like Cas. He floated the rest of the way home on a cloud. 

Dean shut the apartment door quietly in case Sam was already asleep, then turned around and leaned his back against the door and looked up at the ceiling, happiness welling up inside him. He exhaled slowly, replaying the events of the evening in his head and smiling to himself. 

“How was your date?” 

Dean jumped, startled at the sound of Sam’s voice. He hadn’t noticed that he was sitting on the couch with a book in his lap. 

“Jesus, Sammy,” he steadied himself, “I told you we were just hanging out.”

Sam snorted softly.

“What, are you surprised to see me back so early?” Dean pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down. 

“Honestly, yeah. I thought you’d be gone overnight.” Sam closed his book and stood up, walking over to the table and sitting down opposite Dean.

“Well, I told you I’d be back before you went to bed, and here I am.” Dean shrugged theatrically.

“So what, did you bang her and then take off?”

“Sam!” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Sam held up his hands in a submissive gesture. “Did you at least kiss her?” he asked after a moment. 

Dean huffed a laugh. “No, Sam, I didn’t. We just ate dinner and then she showed me how to take pictures, then we read some Ray Bradbury together.” Dean pulled the stack of pictures Cas had given him out of his shirt pocket and showed them to Sam, all except the picture of Cas. 

“These are good,” Sam nodded approvingly as he thumbed through the stack of pictures, then chuckled, “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

Dean scoffed. “What are you getting at?” he asked defensively, gathering up his photos and tucking them back into his pocket. 

“Photography lessons? ‘Just hanging out’ with a girl? Hell, _Ray Bradbury?_ That’s not like you at all. I’d better get my knife to make sure you aren’t really a shifter or something,” Sam joked, beginning to stand up for dramatic effect. 

“Well shit, Sammy. You caught me, I’m a closeted bibliophile. Take me away!” Dean held his hands out in front of him, palms up as if Sam were about to slap a pair of imaginary handcuffs on him. 

Sam only stared at Dean, his smirk turning to a look of absolute bewilderment. 

“What?” 

“You just used the word ‘Bibliophile.’” 

“Shut up and go to bed.” 

Sam stood and pushed his chair in. “Jerk,” he quipped.

“Bitch,” Dean shot back without missing a beat.

“There’s the Dean I know,” Sam chuckled before leaving Dean alone at the table, shutting the bedroom door behind him. 

Dean blew out an exasperated breath and stood up, pushing his chair in behind him. He shuffled over to the couch, sat down and took off Cas’s coat. _Cas’s coat._ By some miracle, Sam hadn’t asked about the coat. It certainly wasn’t a woman’s coat, nor would it fit any girl his age. It was large on Cas and only slightly less large on Dean. Maybe Sam just hadn’t noticed. Whatever the case, he was glad Sam didn’t ask. Quiet as he could, he unbuttoned his shirt and put on an old T-shirt instead. As he laid down, he considered his leather jacket which was draped over the opposite arm of the couch, right where he’d left it before heading to the Novaks’, but neglected it and instead pulled Cas’s coat up over his torso as his blanket. He much preferred this; it was warmer, it was softer, and it smelled like Cas. He let his mind wander back to when he and Cas sat together on the hill, and how wonderful it felt when he laid his head on Cas’s shoulder, and when Cas did the same to him. A contented smile tugged at his lips as he drifted off.

The next few days, Dean and Cas were inseparable. They sat together in Mrs. Fitzgerald’s English class and stole glances at each other while they thought she wasn’t looking, they ate lunch together, and Dean was over at Cas’s house nearly every evening. They read to each other, snapped photo after photo, they watched TV, they talked, they laughed, they smiled. By the end of the week, Dean knew; he had fallen headfirst in love with Castiel Novak, and he didn’t give a damn. Sure, the realization still frightened him, but he wasn’t scared shitless anymore. He loved Cas, and it made perfect sense. The two of them couldn’t be more different, but yet they were one and the same. Emerald green and sparkling sapphire blue, swirled together like acrylic on paintbrush, amalgamating to form the deep sea color of Cas’s bedroom walls. Cas’s bedroom walls, against which Dean leaned, sitting side by side with Cas on the floor, Dean’s head on his shoulder and a book between them, Cas’s honeyed voice reciting the poetry on the page with such eloquent inflection. The heavenly sound entered Dean’s ears and flowed straight to his heart, and the world was right. There were no monsters, there were no ghosts. There was no school, no people, no anything. There was only Dean, Cas, voice, page, and walls. Yes, the world was right indeed. 

Dean returned home after another lovely evening with Cas to find Sam watching _Star Trek_ on the boxy old television.

“How was your date?” He asked, switching off the TV. He asked Dean the same thing every time he returned home from spending time with Cas, and Dean had given up telling Sam that they weren’t dates days ago. 

“It was wonderful,” he smiled to himself. 

Sam looked at him, an awed, yet knowing smile on his face. “You love her, don’t you?” he asked, sounding more like he was making a statement than asking a question, but he waited for Dean’s answer nonetheless. 

“Yeah,” Dean said without hesitation, “Yeah… I do.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Anxiety/Panic attacks

Dean invited Cas to the apartment the next day. He’d wanted to for a while now, but his fear always got the better of him. He was afraid that Cas would be disgusted with how he lived, especially considering how nice Cas’s house was. He was afraid of Sam finding out that the girl he’d been telling him about for more than a week, the girl he told Sam that he loved, wasn’t a girl at all. He was afraid that Sam would tell John that his eldest son was in love with a boy. He was mostly afraid of what his father would think, or say, or do. But John wasn’t there, and Sam would be staying after school with Barry for an astronomy club meeting. He’d told Dean all about how the whole club was going to get pizza and stargaze from the school football field. He wouldn’t be home until late, so Dean figured it was safe. 

He and Cas walked home from school together that night, side by side, block after block until they reached the little apartment complex. Dean glanced absentmindedly up at the cloudy sky. He hoped it would clear up enough by tonight for Sam to see the stars. They entered the building and Dean held the door open for Cas when they reached his apartment. He took a deep breath and stepped in beside Cas. 

Cas looked around, taking in the dusty cabinets and bare walls. Dean knew what he must have been thinking, but Cas didn’t comment. Instead he turned to Dean. “Your brother’s not home?” he asked.

“Nope, it’s… just us.” Dean kicked himself mentally. He hadn’t meant to make that sound so… implicative. Cas didn’t seem bothered, so he brushed it off. “Want to watch some TV?” he asked. 

Cas nodded and they moved to the living room to sit down on the couch. Dean turned on the boxy television and started flipping through channels. He stopped when he caught the title sequence of _The Princess Bride_ running across the screen.

“Have you ever seen _The Princess Bride_?” Dean asked.

“No, I haven’t,” Cas shrugged.

“Well, don’t let the name fool you, it’s got plenty of action, you’re gonna love it,” Dean set the remote down and leaned back on the couch.

“If you enjoy it, I’m sure I will as well,” Cas smiled fondly, letting loose a swarm of butterflies in Dean’s stomach. 

As the movie played, the two of them sat in silence. It wasn’t a stiff or an awkward silence, nor was it heavy. It was a warm, comfortable silence that both of them could feel at home in, in which they could just _be_. At some point during the movie, the few inches of space that had existed between them vanished, and they sat shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. Some time later, Cas’s hand found Dean’s, and Dean gasped ever so slightly. Luckily, an R.O.U.S. had just jumped on screen, tackling Westley, so Dean had an excuse to be startled. They stayed like that for a long time, their hands clasped between them as they watched the famous sword battle between Inigo and Count Rugan, then Westley, Inigo, and Buttercup jumping from the window into Fezzik’s arms, and finally the lot of them riding off on their four white horses.

When the scene of Westley and Buttercup’s final kiss came on, Cas turned to look at Dean, and Dean looked back at Cas. Cas looked like he wanted to say something, but no sound came out of his mouth. They looked at each other a moment longer, both pairs of eyes drifting down to settle on the other’s lips before they connected. Dean didn’t know which of them initiated it, and he wasn’t sure he cared. Kissing Cas felt like he’d been swimming for miles and finally come up for air. He breathed Cas in as their lips crashed together like waves on a shore. Their eyes were closed and their hands had found the sides of each other’s faces as the credits rolled, and Dean was floating peacefully in Cas’s gentle waters. His heart was singing and happiness was welling up inside of him, filling him to the brim, but then he was frightened. All of the sudden he was terrified. He was drowning. Dean pulled away from Cas and gasped, fighting to fill his lungs. Cas watched in horror as Dean began to hyperventilate.

“Dean, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have- I should- oh God, are you okay?” 

Dean could hear Cas speaking to him and could feel his hand gripping his shoulder. He focused on that as he tried to steady his breathing. All the while there was a voice screaming at him in the back of his head; his father’s voice. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and focused on Cas’s hand on his shoulder, blocking the voice out. He heard Cas mumble something like “probably go,” and felt his hand start to leave his shoulder. Dean’s hand flew to Cas’s wrist, holding his hand in place as his breathing began to even out. He tentatively opened his eyes to see Cas staring at him, terrified and concerned. 

“Dean?” 

“I’m… I’m okay,” Dean breathed,

“I’m so sorry, Dean, I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay, don’t apologize, I… I wanted this.”

“You did?” Cas’s look of concern shifted to one of surprise. 

“Yeah, I did, I’ve just… y’know, I’ve never done that with a guy before. Not that it’s all that different, I just,” Dean paused, “I just started thinking about all the things my dad would say if he knew.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Cas started.

“No, no, no, Cas, you couldn’t make me uncomfortable,” Dean reassured him, “I want to do... _more_ of this kind of thing with you, but my dad and my brother, they can’t know. Sammy might tell my dad, and I don’t know what my dad might do.” Dean shuddered at the all too familiar memory of John Winchester’s sharp tongue. Too often he’d found himself on the receiving end of its wrath. 

“I understand,” said Cas. His hand still hadn’t left Dean’s shoulder. 

“Can we… try again?” Dean asked hesitantly.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Cas asked again. 

“Yeah, I am,” Dean replied, and he was. He’d never been so sure about anything in his life.

“We’ll go slow.”

“Okay.” 

Cas was hesitant at first, afraid that he might scare Dean away, but Dean melted into his touch. He wasn’t going anywhere. Their kisses were tentative, gentle and sweet, each one a beautiful little gift, generously given and graciously received. Hands found faces, sifted through soft, short hair, pulled each other closer until both could feel the other’s heart beating against their chest. Dean wasn’t swimming anymore, now he was flying. He skimmed clouds and caught raindrops in his hands, soaring high in the evening sky, and the world was right again. They weren’t surrounded by Cas’s sea green walls or reading one of his books, but Cas was in his arms, holding on to him tightly, and his lips were sweeter and meant more to Dean than any poetry that could ever be written. The world was more than right. Gently, slowly, Dean drifted back down to Earth, and his feet peacefully met the ground. The two of them sat, still holding each other, their foreheads pressed together, panting, in debt of air. 

“That was,” Dean breathed, “Perfect.”

Cas smiled his wonderful smile and it warmed Dean’s face like a beam of sunshine. 

There was so much Dean wanted to say to Cas, to do with Cas, but the moment was cut short by the sound of the door opening. Cas and Dean immediately jumped away from one another, putting a good twelve inches of space between them and sitting back so as to give the impression that they were simply watching TV as Sam strode in, a glum look on his face. He dropped his heavy backpack on the floor and shuffled over to the living room before finally noticing Dean.

“Oh, hey Dean. I didn’t expect to see you here, I thought you’d be at Cas’s house,” Sam paused and looked over at the TV. “You’re watching _Days of our Lives_?” 

Dean turned his head to the TV to see the unmistakable hourglass playing on the screen and grimaced. He and Cas hadn’t been paying much attention to what came on after their movie ended. He grabbed the remote and hastily switched the TV off. “It’s not even dark out yet, what are you doing back here?” Dean asked, trying to change the subject.

“It’s raining,” Sam pointed out, gesturing to the window on the wall behind the couch. 

Dean looked and sure enough, a slight drizzle had started. He hadn’t even noticed. Sam finally turned his attention to Cas. “Who are you?” he asked. 

Before Dean could think to stop him, Cas introduced himself. “Sorry, you must be Sam,” he offered his hand for Sam to shake, “I’m Cas.” 

Sam didn’t shake Cas’s hand. His jaw dropped as he put the pieces together and he stared at Cas and Dean in stunned silence. 

Dean’s stomach sank and anxiety bloomed anew in his chest. Cas didn’t know- how could he have known about all that Dean had told Sam? How could he have known that Dean told Sam that he was in love with this amazing girl, and that her name was Cas? It wasn’t his fault, but now Sam knew, and he was opening his mouth like he was about to speak. Before Sam could say a word, Dean grabbed Cas by the shoulder and led him swiftly to the front door. “Cas, I’m sorry, I think you’d better go. I’ll have to explain later,” his voice was hushed but still shook with fear. 

Cas noticed his anxiety and seemed to understand. He nodded and said “thank you for having me over,” before exiting the apartment. 

Dean closed the door behind him and turned to Sam, his stomach in knots. 

Sam was still staring at him with a dumbfounded look. Finally, he spoke. “That’s Cas?” he asked. 

Dean stood there, his anxiety levels rising, threatening to overflow and spill out of him. He was once again thrashing about in the deeps, struggling to stay afloat. He would start drowning again soon. He didn’t know what to say. There was hardly anything he could say that would make this situation any better, so he said the only thing he could think of, his gaze fixed on the floor and his voice soft, afraid, and pleading. “Please don’t tell Dad.”

Sam looked at him, his brow furrowed. “Of course I won’t tell Dad. Dean, it’s okay.” 

Dean looked up in surprise. “It’s okay?”

“Yeah, it’s okay. You told me you love him and that’s _good_. That’s all that matters. It doesn’t matter that he isn’t a girl. You never had to pretend that he was. You’re my big brother, you practically raised me, and I’ll love and support you no matter what.” 

Dean felt tears begin to slip down his face as Sam came over to hug him. “Thank you,” he sobbed, “thank you, Sammy.”

“You’re welcome,” Sam said after a moment. “Now go get Cas before he leaves the building. Don’t make him walk home in the rain,” He instructed and gave Dean an encouraging pat on the shoulder. 

“Right,” Dean nodded, wiping away his tears, and turned to open the door. To his surprise, Cas was right on the other side. He looked back at Sam who gave him a nod, then stepped out into the hallway with Cas and closed the door behind them. Cas looked down at the floor. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I was going to go to the lobby and call my parents to come pick me up but,” he paused and looked up at Dean, his blue eyes wide with wonder, “Did you really tell Sam that… you love me?”

Dean’s breath caught in his throat. He hesitated for a moment, but then answered. “Yeah, I did.”

And then Cas kissed him. His lips were on Dean’s in an instant, and Dean’s back met the apartment wall. His kiss was eager and impassioned, wholehearted and absolute, unequivocal and true, and Dean knew without Cas having to say a word. He knew that Cas loved him too.


	8. Chapter 8

Cas didn’t have to say it, but he did. He told Dean that he loved him whenever he had the chance. And every time, Dean would smile and say, “I love you too, Cas,” as if his entire vocabulary consisted of only those five words, and those five words were all Dean needed. 

The month flew by full of stolen glances, lots of photographs, lunch break make-out sessions in the janitor’s closet at school, and of course, countless I love you’s. Dean had never been more happy in his life. He could almost forget about the innumerable horrors that prowled the Earth, so long as Cas’s hand was in his. He’d completely forgotten what it felt like before every one of his days ended with a kiss on his lips. 

Not much really changed about his and Cas’s interactions; his heart still jumped every time Cas’s hand touched his, and he still swelled with happiness every time Cas looked at him with those beautiful, sky-blue eyes. The only difference was that he didn’t have to hide it anymore, from Sam or from Cas. 

The fact that Sam knew and supported him meant the world to Dean. It made him feel freer and lighter than ever before. He could bring Cas to the apartment and kiss him out in the open, or lean his head on Cas’s shoulder when they read together, or lay snuggled in his lap while they watched movies on the couch, and Sam could see. Dean didn’t have to hide who he was or how much he loved Cas from Sam, because Sam would never judge him or think any less of him. That kind of support was practically an alien concept to Dean, but it felt good. 

Cas and Dean talked about everything. How Cas’s parents were dead set on him going to business school like his older siblings, when all he really wanted to do was take pictures, Dean’s life on the road with Sam and John, all the schools he’d been to and the places he’d seen, (Cas had scarcely been outside of Fairfax himself.) Dean even told him about his mother and how she died. (He’d left her cause of death at a house fire, opting to omit the part where the fire had been caused by some kind of monster.) Dean didn’t tell him about monsters. The existence of monsters was one of the only two topics that they didn’t discuss, and the other was leaving. Neither of them brought it up, until one night when they were watching movies together on the couch of the apartment, Cas asked. 

“Dean?” he asked softly. Dean could feel Cas’s low voice vibrating through his chest as he lay his head there, paying more attention to Cas’s steady heartbeat than the TV as Cas lay under him, his arm resting in the middle of Dean’s back, holding him close. 

“Yeah?” Dean replied, his eyes drifting closed. Cas’s heartbeat was sweeter than any music he’d ever heard in his life. 

“It’s been nearly a month. We should… talk about what you told me the day we met.” Cas’s words were slow and steady, bordering on hesitant.

“What was that?” Dean asked, his eyes fluttering open again. 

“You told me that you were only going to be here a month or two while your father was out of town on a job,” Cas explained.

“Oh,” Dean exhaled nervously, “that.”

“Dean I… I don’t want you to leave me,” Cas said, his voice wavering ever so slightly.

Dean lifted his head from Cas’s chest so that he could look into his eyes. He brought a hand up to Cas’s face and ran his thumb lightly over his cheekbone. “I don’t even want to think about leaving you.” 

“What are we going to do? When your dad comes back, I mean,” Cas asked, bringing his own hand up and placing it softly over Dean’s. 

Dean thought for a moment, then replied. “We’ll run away together. You and me. After we graduate, we’ll get a little place in the city. You can take your pictures, I’ll find work in an auto shop somewhere, hell, we can even get a dog.” 

Cas smiled and he looked to Dean, his heart full, but his smile forlorn, as if he knew a plan like that wasn’t probable. He didn’t protest though. “I’ve never wanted anything more,” he affirmed. “Do you really think we could have a life like that?”

“I hope so,” Dean answered. He’d never have considered a life like that before he met Cas. It had just never seemed to be in the cards for him. He wasn’t even one hundred percent sure that it would be possible, but he wanted to believe. It was easy to believe with John not around. Cas made it easy to believe. 

A tear fell from Cas’s eye and Dean caught it with his thumb. 

“Hey, hey,” Dean sat up and gathered Cas into his arms, “we’ll figure something out, okay? My dad said he’d be gone for at least six weeks, most likely more. It’s only been four. We’ve got time.” 

They sat, foreheads pressed together as Dean kissed Cas’s tears away. 

“I love you so much, Castiel Novak. More than I ever thought I could love someone. Nothing can change that, and I never wanna be apart from you.”

“And I, you, Dean,” Cas smiled tearfully. 

The two of them held each other the rest of the evening. For the first time, both of them were afraid to let go. 


	9. Chapter 9

A few days later, Dean and Cas found themselves laying side by side on the unmade twin bed in the apartment. Space was scarce, but neither was complaining. Cas held a book of poetry above them as he read aloud to Dean, and Dean held Cas, head resting just below Cas’s collarbone, listening to his heart beat almost in time with the poem. 

_Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—_ Thump.

_Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night_ Thump.

_And watching, with eternal lids apart,_ Thump.

_Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,_ Thump.

Dean’s love for that sound was beyond question, and beyond description.

_The moving waters at their priestlike task_

_Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,_

_Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask_

_Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—_

_No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,_

_Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,_

Cas’s hand, previously curled around Dean’s shoulder, came up to stroke his hair and hold Dean’s head gently to his chest. Dean’s eyes darted up to Cas’s, and Cas’s left the page momentarily to look into Dean’s, but his fluency was unwavered. 

_To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,_

_Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,_

_Still, still to hear his tender-taken breath,_

Cas changed the pronoun from “her” to “his” as he brushed Dean’s hair from his forehead with feather-light fingers, as if he was the poet and he’d crafted this literary paragon solely out of his love for Dean. It reminded Dean of the days when he’d read little Sammy to sleep. His favorite story was _Jack and The Beanstalk_ , and when Dean would read it to him, he’d replace every “Jack” with “Sam,” and Sam would smile as Dean told the story of how he climbed the beanstalk and touched the clouds.

_And so live ever—or else swoon to death._

Cas finished and looked down at Dean, who wore a pensive smile. 

He shifted so that he and Cas were laying on their sides, facing each other, and mere inches separated their noses. His hand came up to Cas’s face as he dragged his fingers gently down his sharp jawline, then across his lips, a look of pure adoration on his face. “You’re so beautiful,” he marveled, “my bright star.” 

And they shared a kiss. Cas’s hands cradled the back of Dean’s neck, and Dean’s encircled Cas’s waist, pulling him as close as he could, but it was still hardly close enough. He breathed Cas’s sweet honey and cinnamon scent, he heard Cas’s own even breaths, he felt the soft fabric of Cas’s shirt beneath his fingertips, and he tasted Cas on his tongue as their lips pressed together. All of his senses were flooded with Cas, and it was heaven. He ran a hand through Cas’s soft hair, Cas sighed in appreciation, and it was paradise. Cas’s kisses traveled gradually from his lips to his jaw to his neck to his collarbone and it was bliss. 

Cas’s hands found their way underneath the hem of Dean’s shirt and Dean shivered, delighted at the contact. Cas pulled away for a moment to look Dean in the eye, his beautiful, crystal blue eyes silently asking for Dean’s permission. Dean nodded vehemently. 

It was effortless, giving himself to Cas, and it _was_ giving. There was no taking between the two of them, just offering and accepting. No demands were made, no expectations were held, it was just the two of them, emerald green and sapphire blue. Every breath Dean took in time with Cas was a sweet, summer breeze. Every sound uttered between the two of them, every affirming, encouraging word was a symphony; unique, beautiful, and for their ears only. Every kiss they shared was a supernova, burning hot and bright, then collapsing in on itself with such intensity that Dean thought he would surely lose himself in it, but he didn’t. He was there, and Cas was right there with him every step of the way. 

They held each other after, each basking lazily in the other’s warmth. They laid on their sides, Cas behind Dean, his arms encircling Dean’s waist, his head resting on the pillow and his lips pressing soft, reverent kisses to the back of Dean’s neck. Dean’s arms were crossed over Cas’s, his fingers tracing patterns lightly and lovingly over Cas’s forearms. 

“What are you thinking about?” Dean asked after a moment, breaking the silence. He could feel Cas smiling into the back of his neck.

“Just about how much I love you,” he replied. “Why, what are you thinking about?”

“Same here,” he slipped his hand underneath Cas’s so their fingers could lace together. “And about how I could just… stay here forever.” 

“Me too,” Cas replied, and their beautiful, peaceful silence returned. They didn’t need to speak to one another to know what the other was saying. Every kiss on Dean’s neck, every touch on Cas’s forearm, every squeeze of Dean’s hand in Cas’s said all that needed to be said. Every one was a silent “I love you.” Their silence went unbroken a while longer, save for their even breathing, and their heartbeats. Dean savored every second of that silence, and every thump of Cas’s heart, his favorite sound in the world. He truly could have stayed there forever. He felt completely and totally relaxed, which was something that he was not accustomed to. He soon found himself feeling drowsy and let out a small yawn. 

“You can sleep if you’d like, I’ll be right here,” Cas whispered into the base of his neck.

Dean nodded minutely and closed his eyes. He was just about to drift off when his eyes snapped open at the sound of running footsteps outside the bedroom door, and before he could even think, the bedroom door swung open so hard that it slammed loudly against the wall. 

“Jesus! What the hell, Sam?” Dean exclaimed at his brother who stood in the doorway. He quickly pulled the blanket up to cover himself and Cas. 

“Sorry!” Sam slapped a hand over his eyes but continued speaking. “You guys need to get up and get dressed right now. Dad just pulled into the parking lot.”


	10. Chapter 10

_Shit,_ Dean thought. _Shit, shit, shit._ He couldn’t think of anything else at that moment, so he said it. 

“Shit!” 

Both he and Cas jumped up and stumbled around the small bedroom, rushing to dress themselves. Dean’s hands fumbled nervously with the buttons on his shirt. It had barely been four weeks. Why was John back so soon? His head was spinning and fear bloomed inside of his chest. This wasn’t right. 

Dean heard the front door open just as he finished zipping his pants. He glanced back at Cas, who had just finished tugging on his shirt. There wouldn’t be time to sneak him out, he’d have to face his father. He gave Cas one more desperate, apologetic look before opening the bedroom door. He could hear Sam talking to John on the other side of the apartment. 

“We’ve got company,” Sam warned, a signal for John to cut the monster talk. 

“What, does Dean have a girl over?” he chuckled as he crossed the living room and threw his coat down on the kitchen table. 

“Hi, Dad,” Dean greeted his father as he stepped out of the bedroom. Cas followed close behind him. 

John turned to look at Dean and Cas. “Who’s this?” he asked, pulling out a chair to sit down.

“This is my… friend, Cas,” Dean answered.

“Nice to meet you, Cas,” John nodded in Cas’s direction, then turned back to Dean. “Dean, take him home. We’ll stay here tonight then we’ll get going first thing in the morning.”

Dean wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to yell at his father, to tell him that he wasn’t ready yet. He and Cas were supposed to have more time. _They were supposed to have more time._ But he didn’t yell, nor did he cry. He knew better than to do so in front of John. He looked down at the floor and said, “Yes, sir,” then walked to the front door, motioning for Cas to follow him. 

Once outside the apartment building, Dean started towards Cas’s house without having to think. He’d been there so many times in the last month, he knew exactly which way to go. He’d memorized every turn. He didn’t wait for Cas, just began walking swiftly, his hands shoved in his pockets, and the cool evening air stinging his already teary eyes, making them water even more. _Terrific,_ he thought. He didn’t even realize how fast he was walking until Cas called after him. 

“Dean!” Cas called from behind him, jogging to catch up. “Dean, please, slow down and talk to me.” Cas caught up to Dean and grabbed him by the shoulder. Dean turned and caught Cas’s wrist in his hand. 

“Don’t!” he started, his voice sounding sharper than he’d intended. “Please don’t say anything, I… I just want to be with you.”

“Dean, I…” Cas stammered, at a loss for words.

“Look, we’re leaving and there’s nothing I can do!” Dean turned away and began walking again. 

Cas hurried after him. “You can stay here with me until we graduate, I know my parents would let us, they love you. We can have that little place in the city and a dog, just like you said!” 

Dean stopped walking and let Cas put a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Stay. Please,” he heard Cas murmur. 

It sounded like a dream. He wanted to stay with Cas, he wanted to have that little place together in the city and a dog. He wanted it so badly, but he couldn’t have it. He couldn’t just leave Sam. Dean thought back to every time John had left them without enough money to buy food, and he'd had to steal or hustle games of pool or poker just to feed his brother. He thought about the times when Sam needed someone to talk to, and how he was always there. Mostly he thought about all the times when John would get angry. When this happened, (which was pretty often) Dean would instinctively place himself between John's anger and Sam, taking the brunt of it.

He turned his head to the side, unable to turn all the way around and look Cas in the eye. “Please don’t ask that of me, Cas,” he muttered, his voice low and pleading. Refusing Cas’s offer hurt him more than he thought it could. “I can’t leave Sam alone with my dad. Someone needs to take care of him.” 

“Dean, please, I can’t lose you!” Cas begged. 

The pain in his voice was too much for Dean. “Why?!” Suddenly angry, he wheeled back around to face Cas, his voice rising to a yell. “Because we fucked?”

“Because I love you!” Cas yelled, his voice breaking. A tear fell from his eye.

“You shouldn’t love me,” Dean mumbled, his gaze dropping to the ground. 

Dean was taken by surprise as Cas grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him up against the chain link fence that bordered the sidewalk. “Don’t you dare, Dean Winchester, Don’t you dare! This last month was one of the happiest of my life. I’ve felt things with you that I’ve never felt before. I’ve told you things that I’ve never told anyone! And I never want to have a life that you aren’t a part of!” Cas’s voice dropped from a yell to practically a whisper as more tears fell from his eyes. “So don’t you dare tell me that I shouldn’t feel that way.” 

Dean was speechless. He opened his mouth, but instead of words, a sob came out. It took him a moment to realize that his cheeks were also wet with tears. He was doing it again. He was doing what he always did without even realizing it; in his anger and frustration, he was pushing Cas away. All the girls that Dean had pushed away before had taken it in stride, concluding that Dean was just some love-them-and-leave-them asshole that never had feelings for them in the first place, (which was sometimes true) but Cas was different. Cas pushed back. He knew exactly how much Dean loved him. Dean collapsed forward into Cas’s arms, and Cas held him tightly. Dean buried his face in Cas’s shoulder and let his sobs out, clinging to Cas like a frightened child. “I’m sorry,” he hiccupped.

Cas just held him and let him cry, stroking his hair consolingly and murmuring soft reassurances, “It’s okay, Dean, I’ve got you. I’m here,” all the while his own tears were staining Dean’s shoulder. 

The two of them stood, leaning on each other for a long time. 

Dean didn’t want to let go. He let himself think that he could stay here, in Cas’s arms, forever, that as long as they didn’t let go, nothing could take them away from each other. “I never want to let go of you,” he whispered after a moment.

Cas didn’t have time to respond, as the two of them were ripped away from each other. 

Dean was shoved to the ground and pain jolted through him as he hit the concrete on his hands and knees. He could hear Cas yelling for him as he was roughly pulled to his feet by a young man in dark clothing. 

Cas was being held back by two people, one very large man and a woman with short, brown hair. They both opened their mouths and hissed sharply, showing their fangs. They were vampires. 

“Sorry to interrupt such a touchin’ moment there, boys, but we got a little business with yous,” said the large male vamp with a drawling accent. 

The large man let go of Cas, and the woman shoved him up against the chain link fence, pinning him there. 

“Dean,” Cas whimpered helplessly, his face pressed against the fence.

“You let go of him, you son of a bitch!” Dean roared, struggling against the vamp that held him. Red hot anger boiled in the pit of his stomach. 

“Oh, your little boyfriend here?” the larger man taunted, strolling cockily in front of Dean, “He said your name was Dean Winchester, now wouldn’t that make you John Winchester’s boy? Naw, we’s gonna take the both of yous back to our camp and we’s gonna drain you, maybe make your daddy think twice next time he decides to roll up and kill half our people. We was gonna just follow him back and kill him, but,” he paused to let out a dry chuckle and brought his face close enough for Dean to smell his rancid breath, “I think this might just hurt even worse. And when he comes to find you, we’s gonna kill him and that little brother a’yours.” 

Letting out a yell, Dean leaned back and then threw his head forward, smashing it hard against the vamp’s nose. 

The vamp stumbled back, yelling and clutching his face as blood oozed out from between his fingers. 

Dean took the opportunity to twist around in the other vamp’s grasp and land a knee to his groin. As the vamp doubled over, Dean broke himself completely free of his grip and brought his knee up to his face. The vamp fell back onto the sidewalk and Dean kicked him hard in the side. He felt a pair of arms grip him from behind and hiss loudly, and swung his arm around, his elbow plunging into the vamp’s gut. He whirled around and tackled the vamp to the ground, landing punch after punch to his face. Dean’s fist was raised for another hit when he was grabbed from behind and slammed down onto the ground. Pain racked through his head as it collided with the concrete.

“Let’s just take the kid and go,” he heard one of the vamps say through the ringing in his ears.

“Cas, no!” Dean exclaimed sluggishly, trying to pull himself off the ground. His hands found the chain link fence and hoisted himself up. His head whipped around in both directions, looking for Cas and the vamps, but they were nowhere to be seen. They were gone. _Cas_ was gone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Homophobia, blood/violence, references to the f*nale

Dean ran. He sprinted all the way back to the apartment, not stopping for a second. He tore down the hall and burst through the apartment door, almost ripping it off its hinges. 

John and Sam were seated at the kitchen table, but both jumped up in surprise at the sight of Dean breathing raggedly in the doorframe.

“Vamps,” Dean gasped, “three of them, they took Cas.” 

“More of my vamps?” John asked, his voice rising.

Dean nodded as he held the stitch in his side and tried to catch his breath.

“Shit,” John spat, “get your gear and let’s go. I know where they’ll be.”

Minutes later, Dean sat in the passenger seat of the Impala as John drove towards the outskirts of town. 

“I thought I’d gotten them all. I’m sorry, son,” John said firmly. His voice was unwavering and didn’t sound the least bit apologetic or conciliatory, at least not to Dean, not that he expected it to. He was angry with his father. These vamps came after them because of John, they took Cas because John didn’t do his job well enough. He was angry with himself. The vamps took Cas because he wasn’t strong enough to protect him, or maybe if he hadn’t broken down, they could have made it to Cas’s house before the vamps attacked. Anger and accusation and guilt and blame swam around inside of his head.

_Cas is in danger because of you. None of this would have ever happened to him if it weren’t for you. If he’s hurt or dead, it’s your fault. You let this happen. You don’t deserve his love. If you find him and he isn’t dead, he’ll hate you for letting him get taken, and for keeping secrets. He should hate you, you did this to him. This is all your fault._

Dean fought the urge to cry and shoved these thoughts to the back of his mind. “Let’s just go kill these sons of bitches and save Cas,” he replied flatly without looking at John. Dean felt Sam place a comforting hand on his shoulder from where he sat in the backseat, and Dean met his eye in the rearview mirror.

Sam’s eyes were reassuring and seemed to say, “We will.”

They drove for what seemed like forever to Dean until finally, John pulled the Impala into the gravel drive of an old, dilapidated barn. “They were camped out here when I found them,” he gestured to the rundown structure.

The three of them wordlessly exited the car, armed themselves with machetes, and approached the barn door. 

“Ready?” John whispered. 

Sam and Dean both nodded. 

John eased open the rickety barn door and crept inside while Sam and Dean waited behind, concealed by the shadow of the door.

The three vamps stood on the other side of the empty barn. 

“Well well well, if it id’nt Johnny Winchester. We been waitin’ for you.” 

Dean recognized the voice of the larger male vampire and anger surged in his stomach.

“Well, here I am,” John held his arms out theatrically. 

“Where’s your boys? I was kinda hopin’ they’d come join the party.”

“I’m afraid it’s just you and me this time.” 

The vamps slowly made their way to the center of the barn and began to circle John.

“Aw, shucks,” the large vamp said in mock disappointment, “ain’t that a damn shame.” 

The smaller male vamp lunged at John, and both Sam and Dean took that as their cue to jump in. 

Dean ran straight for the large vamp and tackled him to the ground. The floorboards beneath the two of them let out a loud crack and suddenly they were falling, tumbling through the decaying, hay covered floor and into some sort of lower level. Dean landed on top of the vamp and immediately raised his machete. 

Before he could bring it down, the vamp landed a punch to his arm, knocking the machete out of his hand. The vamp pushed Dean off of him and stood, brushing himself off as Dean got shakily to his feet. The lower level was darker and Dean couldn’t see where his machete had gone, but he could see something sharp and metal sticking out from a support beam behind the vamp that looked like a piece of rebar. 

Gathering all of his strength, Dean leaned his shoulders forward and charged at the vamp, knocking him back and impaling him on the bar. 

The vamp let out a strangled gurgling sound as he looked down at the jagged piece of metal sticking squarely out of his chest.

Dean pawed around at the ground beneath him, searching for his machete. When he found it, he faced the vamp and raised it, ready to swing it down and end him. A beam of light shone down from the hole in the floor that they’d broken through and landed on the impaled vamp like a spotlight. His face was dotted with purple and greenish bruises and his nose was swollen and crooked from when Dean had beat him earlier. 

The vamp grinned at him through bloody teeth. “You’d better finish me off, Dean Winchester,” he coughed and more blood dribbled down from his mouth, “You’d better kill me before I tell your daddy that you’re a fa-”

“SHUT UP!” Dean roared and swung the machete down, slicing through the vamp’s neck before he could finish his sentence. He breathed heavily, steadying himself as he stared down at the vamp’s headless body.

“Dean?” 

Dean heard Cas’s voice calling out weakly from behind him and his head whipped around. It seemed to be coming from one of the horse stalls on the other side of the room. 

“Cas?” Dean called as he frantically tried to follow Cas’s voice, “Where are you?”

“I’m here,” Cas croaked.

Dean followed his voice to the last stall and shoved it open to see Cas lying on the floor, his hands and feet bound with twine. 

“Cas!” Dean fell to his knees in front of Cas and helped him sit up, then dug in his jacket for his pocket knife. He freed Cas’s feet first and then his hands. 

As soon as the twine on Cas’s wrists was cut, Cas threw himself forward into Dean’s arms.

Dean wrapped his arms protectively around Cas, holding him as tight as he could. _Cas was here. He was alive and in Dean’s arms._ “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Dean asked, hurriedly running his fingers over the sides of Cas’s neck, checking for bite marks. He found none.

“I’m okay,” Cas breathed into Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean laughed tearfully, letting out a sigh of relief. “God, Cas, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Dean, I’m okay,” Cas reassured. 

“Let’s get you out of here,” Dean stood and helped Cas to stand, holding onto his hand, “Just… close your eyes.”

“What?”

“You’re safe, but there are things out there that I don’t want you to have to see,” Dean thought of the decapitated body of the vamp, still impaled on the metal bar, “trust me.” 

Cas nodded and shut his eyes. 

Dean led Cas with one hand on his shoulder and the other hand holding his, their fingers laced together, past the body of the vamp and up the stairs on the other side of the room. Neither one let go until they were both seated safely in the backseat of the Impala. 

“Those things weren’t human, were they? I mean, their teeth…” Cas trailed off. 

“Vampires,” John answered bluntly from the driver’s seat. “They looked pretty beat up too. Did you do that, Dean?”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered, remembering the vamp’s bruised face.

John gave a small nod of approval, his eyes never leaving the road. “Good job.”

 _Not good enough,_ Dean thought to himself.

The four of them were on their way back into town, Sam in the passenger seat and Cas and Dean in the back. Unbeknownst to John, their hands were clasped together on the seat between them, concealed by Dean’s leather jacket that he’d laid across their laps. 

“And you… kill them?” Cas asked hesitantly. 

“Them and every other slimy, inhuman monster to walk the planet. It’s kind of the family business,” John replied. 

Cas’s eyes widened and his hand gave Dean’s a little squeeze. “There are more than just vampires?”

John, Sam, and Dean finished giving Cas “The Talk” as they drove back into town. Cas took it fairly well, although by the end of the drive, Dean’s hand was numb. He didn’t mind, though. 

When John pulled the car up to the curb in front of Cas’s house, Dean insisted on walking Cas to the door. He didn’t want to take any chances. 

When they reached the front steps, they both stopped and looked each other in the eye. Dean didn’t want to believe this was it, the last time he’d see Cas. They couldn’t even say a proper goodbye with John watching them. Tears stung at his eyes. Then he had an idea. He pulled Cas into a short, friendly embrace and patted his shoulder before whispering, “Tomorrow morning in the apartment parking lot. Meet me,” in his ear. 

Cas nodded to show that he understood. “Do you still have the picture of me?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, pulling it from the inside pocket of his jacket where he always kept it. 

“May I take it? I’ll give it back to you tomorrow, I… want to write something for you on it.” 

“Sure, of course,” Dean handed him the photo, the one that he’d taken of Cas standing on the hill in the sunset, the night when Cas first put his arms around Dean. “Only if I can write something for you on your picture of me.”

Cas reached into the inner pocket of his brown coat and pulled out the picture of Dean leaning against the wall of the school, the one he’d taken on the day they met, and handed it to Dean, giving him a small smile. “Of course, Dean.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”


	12. Chapter 12

Dean glanced nervously out of the living room window down to the parking lot for what seemed like the hundredth time this morning. Cas still wasn’t there. 

He’d risen uncharacteristically early, a fact that both John and Sam pointed out when they rose hours later to find Dean already showered, dressed, packed, and seated at the kitchen table. The truth was that he hadn’t slept at all that night. He’d spent half of the night racking his brain trying to decide what to write on Cas’s photo, and the other half in silent tears. 

The back of that photo seemed miniscule, not nearly big enough to fit every word Dean wanted to say to Cas, and far too small to fit any literary expression of how much he loved him. Dean was never much for writing, yet he felt he could have written a thousand pages for Cas. But he only had the night, and time ran short, just as his time with Cas had. The photo was now tucked safely into his jacket pocket, the back tattooed with his oh-so-carefully chosen words to Cas. His last words to Cas, Dean realized, until they were able to be together again someday. 

He glanced out the window again, and still no Cas. He’d begun to worry a while ago. John and Sam had finished packing and were readying to load the car. He couldn’t leave without seeing Cas again. Their brief hug before parting last night couldn’t be their final goodbye, it just couldn’t. 

“Got everything?” John asked.

“Yeah,” Sam replied.

Dean nodded silently.

“Let’s get going then.” John opened the front door and exited the apartment, followed by Sam and a reluctant Dean. 

Dean’s heart sank lower and lower as he tossed his duffle bag into the trunk of the Impala. John now sat in the front seat with the engine running, waiting for Sam and Dean to close the trunk and get in. 

“Dean, look.”

Dean felt a nudge from Sam and looked down at his brother, who was pointing to the far side of the apartment. He turned his head and looked where Sam was pointing and his heart swelled with joy. 

There, peeking around the corner of the building with only his head visible, just like the day he and Dean had met in the schoolyard, was Cas.

“I’ve gotta go back inside for a minute, I forgot something,” Dean called to John.

“Don’t be too long,” John responded.

Dean gave John a nod before scurrying off to where Cas was hiding. Once around the corner of the building, safe from John’s eye, Dean all but leaped into Cas’s arms. 

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” Cas started, “my parents-”

Dean silenced him with a kiss, and Cas kissed him back again and again. Their kisses were different this time; desperate and aching, desirous and eager, as if each was trying to collect enough of the other to last them through however long they’d have to be apart. 

They broke apart after a minute and stood, foreheads pressed together and both of their hands clasped tightly in those of the other. 

“We don’t have long,” Dean panted, a hint of urgency in his voice. “Listen, Sam graduates in three years. I’ll come back for you as soon as he leaves for college.” Dean knew of Sam’s dream to leave the hunter’s life and attend law school, and there was no doubt in his mind that he’d be able to achieve it. 

“I’ll wait for you,” Cas promised, “And you have my phone number and address, so you can call and write.”

“I will, I promise.” 

“I love you,” Cas affirmed, his grip on Dean tightening and his voice breaking ever so slightly.

“I love you too, Cas, so much,” Dean replied, bringing a hand up to cup Cas’s cheek. He jumped when he heard two sharp honks of the Impala’s horn, a signal that John was growing impatient. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” Dean dug in his jacket pocket and pulled out his picture, and pressed it into Cas’s hand. 

“I know,” Cas replied, a sad smile blooming on his face as he removed his picture from his coat pocket and handed it to Dean. 

Dean tried not to think about how much he would miss that wonderful smile as he tucked the photo into his pocket. 

Cas pulled him in for one last kiss. 

Another impatient honk of the Impala’s horn and Dean was off, hurrying back to the car, the sudden absence of Cas’s hands in his already stinging. 

“What took you so long?” John asked as Dean seated himself in the back of the Impala. 

“Sorry,” Dean replied quietly, “I uh… I couldn’t find my knife.” 

John shrugged and shifted the car into gear. 

Dean peered out the window, searching for Cas’s face as the car began to move, and found it peeking around the edge of the building again. He kept his gaze on Cas’s face, on those big, beautiful blue eyes until the car turned out of the parking lot and he disappeared from view. 

It was then that Dean remembered the photo in his pocket and pulled it out to read what Cas had written to him. He paused to admire the photo of Cas standing on the hill, his face lit up by the last golden sunlight of the day, and with a smile bright enough to outshine the stars. God, Dean was going to miss him. He almost didn’t want to read what Cas had written, he wanted to keep on pretending that he would wake up and see Cas at school the next morning, and that these words weren’t really the last of Cas’s that he would hear for a long time, but Cas had written these words for him, with the hope that Dean would read them, so he would. He slowly turned the photo over and stared at Cas’s handwriting, which was neat but far from pristine, just like the rest of him. It was one of the many things that Dean loved so much about Cas. The words, Dean realized, were written in stanzas. Cas had written him a poem. He smiled fondly as he began to read, noticing that the words in the top left corner were smudged ever so slightly by the stain of a teardrop. 

_ He who has my heart forever won, _

_ Who the night sky, envious as she can be, _

_ Marvels in his light _

_ Golden like the sun. _

_ And only he can to me peace _

_ And respite bring, _

_ As April harbors merry warmth _

_ And showers of the spring. _

_ He, who gracious fate saw fit _

_ To place me in his way, _

_ And I, obliged to forever bask _

_ In his sultry light of day. _

_ Call me daft, or call me mad _

_ But fortune’s fool I’ll freely be _

_ If fortune was the splendid one _

_ Who brought him here to me.  _

_ For Dean. I love you forever. _

_ -Cas _

Dean stared down at the beautiful words that Cas had written for him and wiped a tear from his eye. He hoped that John hadn’t seen. Cas had a poet’s soul, that was for sure. He couldn’t help feeling that, in comparison to this, what he had written to Cas seemed a little inadequate, but he knew that Cas would love what he wrote all the same because he loved Dean.

Dean all of the sudden felt very tired, and remembered that he hadn’t slept a wink the night before. Tucking the photo safely back into his pocket and letting his hand rest over it protectively, he leaned his head to the side and let it rest against the car window. His eyelids drooped as John left the quiet town roads and turned onto an empty county highway. He let out a quiet breath and closed his eyes, letting the steady sound of sixty miles per hour lull him to sleep. He hoped to dream of Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap. Thank you so much for reading!   
> As of now, I have no plans for continuing this work or making it part of a series as I am out of ideas. However, if this work left any other creators feeling inspired, I'd love to see where you take it.


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